


Gas Leaks and Goose Feathers

by lymongrab



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Language, dumb scientists having dumb feelings that they don't understand because they're dumb, german science husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lymongrab/pseuds/lymongrab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's such a nice sweatervest, it would be a shame to ruin it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gas Leaks and Goose Feathers

"ALL PERSONNEL INHABITING NODE 120-V PLEASE REPORT TO MAIN TERMINAL 1 MESS HALL. REPEAT: ALL PERSONNEL INHABITING NODE 120-V PLEASE REPORT TO MAIN TERMINAL 1 MESS HALL."

The metallic female voice tanged sharply through the lab, startling Hermann enough to let the equation he was halfway through trail off into a slithery tail of chalk.

"Y’all right there pal? Did ole GLADoS there scare you?" Newt called saucily from across the room. "Jesus Christ dude, is it cold in here or what? I can see my breath!"

Hermann sighed heavily. “No Newton, I was merely startled, as I was deep in concentration, a state likely unfamiliar to you in your line of work.” Grabbing his cane from where it was hooked on the bottom sill of the board, Hermann thumped across the room to retrieve the leather briefcase he usually carried his work in, which was currently resting on the narrow steel counter just left of the door.

Newt looked up from his work, raising an eyebrow. “Well at least I know where the cold is coming from.”

Hermann thumped back across the room, wordlessly, not even taking the time to shoot Newt his infamous withering glare.

Newt continued without looking up from his specimen, "I was making a joke about how icy your heart is Hermann, and so help me God if you call what I do a "softer science" again, I will personally take all six of my PhDs and shove them up your tweedy, German-"

"Newton I have no time for this," Hermann hissed as he shoved an untidy mound of papers into the case, not taking his usual care to organize them first, or even be sure they were all facing in one direction. "We make for the breach in mere days, and I still have many kinks in the Multiple Event Theory to smooth out, not to mention the Marshal has ordered that we meet and brief the newest ranger he’s brought back today. An American, too, so God only knows how long that will take. There is no time for mindless chatter." He paused for a moment to click the latches of the overstuffed briefcase shut. "I also happen to have living quarters in node 120-V."

Newt looked up with the glint in his eye that only meant that Hermann had just given him fresh ammunition.

"Dude. Your so fucked. Last time they called people down into the mess hall from a residency block, it was to let them know a water main broke and all their stuff went to shit in the water."

The muscle under Hermann’s left eye twitched as it always did when he was trying to supress the urge to rap his cane across Newt’s workstation, but time was short, and he resigned himself to huffing once, intentionally bumping into one of Newt’s rolling surgical tables as he crossed the room, and slamming the door on Newt’s shouted protestations.

Hermann made his way down to the terminal 1 mess hall, where some fifteen other members of the PPDC were gathered (Good, he thought, mostly engineering, no one of acquaintance to bother me.) As they waited for some news of why they’d been called away from their work, the physicist sat down at one of the long tables and opened his case, pulling out a legal pad and a few stapled leaflets on which he began furiously scrawling. A few moments passed, leaving him uninterrupted in his work, until the familiar voice of LOCCENT Officer Tendo Choi came echoing through the big, mostly empty room over the intercom.

"Sorry to keep you all waiting, but they didn’t have time to send someone down to tell you in person. It seems as if the carbon-monoxide alarm went off in the lower V node, so none of you will have access to your quarters or personal effects until they can get up there and figure out what's what." A mutual groan arose from everyone gathered. "The good news is, they don’t think it’s actually a gas leak, so you should be back in there by tonight; the bad news is that they have 240 different pipes to thoroughly inspect for damage before they can do that, so it could be several hours. We’ll send out another announcement over the system when we’re all clear. Apologies about the mess, folks."

Hermann let out a frustrated “ACH”, reverting to German in this particularly irritating moment, then hastily gathered his things and checked his watch. It was only 20 minutes until Marshal Pentecost had ordered them to be on deck to greet the new ranger. He thudded violently back to the lab to force Newton out onto the deck with him.

As he burst through the door, he found Newt already washing his hands at the sink in the corner of the room, drying them (On his trousers no less, good God), and rolling down his sleeves a few times, in a pitiful attempt to try and cover some of his inked forearms (but not really).

"Hey man, you’re gonna want a jacket, its raining and cold as balls outside right now. I was just gonna swing back to my room to grab mine and I’ll meet you at the LOCCENT, we can go to the upper loading deck from there,"

"I’ll be fine, worry about yourself." Hermann mumbled somewhat bitterly. His jumper was made of cashmere, fit him quite well, and a gift from his sister Elsa, from their last Christmas together in Cornwall. He was loath to forfeit it to the freezing coastal rain.

"Dude, you cant go out in that grampa sweatervest, you're gonna freeze. And it's not like you have an OUNCE of bodyfat protecting you from the cold so your limbs are basically just gonna pop off like fucking Mr. Potato Head the second we step outside, just saying-"

"Newton, you know how much I dislike your blatant disregard for quantifiable amounts in favor of gross hyperbole. I’ll be fine." He said the last bit stiffly, and somewhat unconvincingly. "Besides, it seems as if they’re investigating a possible gas leakage in my residency node, so I couldn’t go back to my quarters for outerwear even if I wished it."

"You should have just said something, man, I have like a million coats I could lend you-" Herman moved to open his mouth in protest, but Newt cut him off before he could get a word in edgewise, "-and DON’T even think of trying to say no, because I’ll bring you one anyway, so you might as well come with me and pick it yourself, or else I’ll pick one for you and I’ll make sure it’s covered in metal studs and punk rock patches."

Hermann let out a feeble sigh and followed the smaller man back to his quarters, dreading what wearing something out of his horrendously garish wardrobe to meet the newest member of the PPCD would result in.

They entered Newt’s room, Hermann following cautiously behind, somewhat wide eyed at all that lay before him. He’d never been in his lab partner’s room before, despite the years of correspondence, professional collaboration, and being co-heads of the PPCD’s K-Sci division for over ten years. The walls were plastered with vintage-bordering-on-antique B-horror and science fiction movie posters. Shelves lined with records and small plastic monsters from old Japanese films, a big nylon wallscroll of a team of cartoon soldiers with leather harnesses that snaked around their legs. It was as if a child lived here, yet knowing this man was the most brilliant cryptozoologist and K-bio expert the world had ever seen some how made it…endearing.

Newt noticed his colleague sizing up the room. “You like it? I’ve been working on this collection for years. Take a look at the records, all first printings.” Hermann hobbled over to the vinyl-bearing shelves, and lifted his glasses to his face. They were mostly names he didn’t recognize, violent and vulgar sounding, yet one stood out to him.

"You enjoy Cat Anderson? I had no idea your tastes even breached that level of musical comprehension."

"Cat Anderson of Duke Ellington’s band? Hell yeah, man! Did you HEAR that solo he pipes out during "Satin Doll" on the Duke’s 70th Birthday recording? Dude’s a fucking rockstar!"

Hermann attempted to stifle the smile on his lips and failed. Despite Newton’s use of somewhat colourful language, it had been a long time since Hermann had someone to talk to about jazz.

Newt was already in the closet, rustling around, head hidden by the rows of clothes, his voice muffled. “You can come by again sometime if you want to check out my vinyl, if the world doesn’t end in, like, a week.”

The thought of listening to crackly old records with his small, wild-haired lab partner, lying next to one another on his bed and talking late into the night about music darted across Hermann’s mind, and caused his stomach to do a small flip before he quickly repressed the notion as ridiculous. Newt emerged from the closet, his back to the taller man. “I have a few you can pick from, but this one is mad warm and sorta too big on me anyway.” He turned around to reveal a very puffy, green down parka with fur trim on the hood. Hermann approached Newt, gently took the parka from his hands, and slid into the layers of coat. It fit like a glove. Hermann nestled into the warm layers, the coat enshrining him. It smelled like Newton. Hermann did his best to inhale deeply without being noticed, somewhat intoxicated by the musky, papery smell of his colleague. “It suits you. Or at least better than it suits me. Whaddya think?” There was a sort of eagerness behind Newt’s eyes as he spoke, like he secretly hoped for the approval of the tall, slender man before him.

Hermann responded with a somewhat tentative roll of his eyes, “The fur trim is ridiculous. This is Hong Kong, not the arctic.”

Newt smiled and replied. “Yeah, but that sonofabitch’ll keep even your ice cold heart warm. You can hold on to it as long as you need, dude.”

"We really should be on our way, Newton."

They walked out the door, and Newt locked it behind them. “I bet you’re just thrilled to have another American on the base, seeing how much you enjoyed the last one, and hey let’s be real, what’s not to enjoy about the last one, am I right?” Newt grinned devilishly up at Hermann.

"Oh do shut up you pocket-sized nuisance."

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic written for my drift partner, Lou. I lent her my parka when we cosplayed everyone's favourite German Scientist Husbands at a con last weekend, and it inspired this dumb little thing.


End file.
